


The Favorite

by DisasterLesbean



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Gayness Dismantles JD’s Plan, Heather’s Typical Bigotry and Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:46:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25817506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisasterLesbean/pseuds/DisasterLesbean
Summary: Duke’s ripping into Katie’s ugly sweater next to Heather. It’s a white noise of derision while Heather’s critical eyes take in McNamara and Veronica.Is everyone at Westerberg a homosexual? Honestly, it’s getting ridiculous. She knows Kurt and Ram are fucking, Duke can hardly contain herself, now McNamara and Veronica?She’s going to start drinking from bottled water only.
Relationships: Heather Chandler/Heather Duke
Comments: 3
Kudos: 47





	The Favorite

**Author's Note:**

> This has Heather’s compliant language/discussion so TW for bulimia, bullying, unhealthy relationships.

To demand perfection is to demand the impossible, it doesn’t stop Heather from demanding it. They will provide perfection or they will die trying.

Duke is living proof of that. 

She has a special place in her heart for Duke because of the way she tears herself apart for Heather’s approval and status, Heather doesn’t know why Duke thinks being special to her is a good thing. She doesn’t know why Duke tries so hard to be valued by Heather. 

Heather never openly values her, maybe that’s it.

She understands why Duke wants to be popular, she understands why she wants to be at the top of the school hierarchy, but she shouldn’t want to be Heather’s friend.

The only thing worse than being Heather’s enemy is being her friend. 

Duke thinks she’s being smart by getting close to Heather but it couldn’t be further from the truth. ‘Keep your enemies close’ is wrong in every sense for their case. Duke thinks if she gets close to the shark then Heather will let her feed off her scraps. She snaps at Duke instead. She devours Duke piece by piece, asking for more and more from the girl. Duke doesn’t even fight it. She feels Heather’s jaws tighten around her and she goes limp. She sacrifices everything Heather tells her to, she destroys everyone Heather sneers at, she cannibalizes everything that once made her Heather Duke. Now she’s just Heather’s. 

Duke lost any chance she had at being independent, at overthrowing her and becoming the shark, when she tried getting close to Heather. Now, all anyone sees is Duke doing Heather’s bidding. They don’t cross Duke because she will ruin their lives but they wouldn’t follow her. They know she begins and ends with Heather.

Duke made herself Heather’s favorite, the worst mistake of her life. If being close to Heather, being a friend is bad, being her favorite is the worst fate for someone. Everyone mutters and gossips about how she favors Veronica and they’re wrong. Oh, she absolutely publicly favors Veronica, but it’s all just to see the way it hits Duke. It’s a blow every time she does. 

Duke is in the trenches trying to get higher, be more. She takes every shot and stab that Heather can send her way. She takes Heather’s cutting insults, her taunting of Duke’s bulimia, and the way Heather somehow always makes Duke the joke. She takes it all and then Heather welcomes Veronica in and shows her almost kindness.

She could have spit in Duke’s face and it wouldn’t have had half the effect.

Duke hates it. She seethes quietly but not sneakily enough to escape Heather’s notice. She wouldn’t have even let Veronica in if she didn’t see that sneer.

Being Chandler’s favorite makes it easier for her to see the way Duke’s eyes last a little too long on her.

Her eyes drag over Heather and not in the way they look at the other girls. It isn’t full of scalding judgement. It’s an inhale, a shaky exhale. Eyes that linger but never stop, ever aware of the need to keep it secret. 

The first time she notices it, Heather debates what to do about it. It could be another weapon, another hot poker to drive between Duke’s ribs and stoke the hate in her eyes. 

Heather is almost touched at the amount of hate Duke has to have for her. 

People don’t visibly show their hate. They’re too afraid to. Duke does. She thinks she’s hiding it, she thinks she’s good at being a snake, but no one outplays Heather.

If there’s something Heather understands, it’s hate.

“Do you think Veronica will go out with JD?” McNamara asks both of them.

JD, top of the list of things she hates.

Duke’s face twitches with disgust. “No.” 

“Why the quick answer? Do you know something, Heather?” Heather asks Duke pointedly. 

Duke looks more careful when answering Heather. “She knows we won’t stand by her if she dates that loser.”

“We should make that very clear to him.” Heather says.

Duke’s lips quirk, a gleam of excitement at possible cruelty. Heather feels a proud surge of fondness at the look. The Heather Duke she first met wouldn’t have been so eager, so ready to embarrass JD or Veronica. This Duke is their creation. Heather broke the surface and handed the hammer over to Duke, having her do the rest. “What are you thinking?” Duke asks.

“Kurt and Ram couldn’t threaten JD. He doesn’t care about his reputation.” McNamara put in, surprisingly helpful. She is a Heather but she doesn’t partake like Heather and Duke. She’s the approachable one, they do that for a reason. People make the mistake of trusting McNamara. She does have better intentions than the other two, she always suggests more leniency, but surprisingly she isn’t right now.

Interesting.

“We’ll have to do something else.” Heather agrees easily, her mind still on the question forming in her mind. “Heather, stay close to Veronica. Make sure she understands her allegiances.” She would have said to make sure Veronica knows her place, she knows when to change her words for the best effect. Some people need different orders. This way, McNamara will associate allegiance and friendship when that’s the furthest thing from Heather’s thoughts. 

Heather knows McNamara isn’t as nice as people see her, she wouldn’t be a Heather if she was.

“Yes, Heather.”

McNamara does as she’s told and rarely leaves Veronica alone. She’s always by her side, a good mediator between Veronica, Duke, and Heather. She is useful at keeping the Heathers from self-destructing. There’s a reason Heather picked her out of hundreds. She offers enough vulnerability and kindness to soften Veronica, make her more malleable. McNamara is excellent at softening prey. She lowers their guards, sometimes unconsciously, and then Duke and Heather strike. They make an effective team and it’s no different when applied to Veronica. Veronica blinks and flinches less with Heather’s commentary or plans.

Good.

She’s no Duke but she’s coming along.

“Kurt’s birthday party is on Friday, we’re all going.”

“I can’t.” Veronica says and Heather glares at her. 

“Don’t tell me you have plans with JD.” Duke scoffs, backing off immediately with mumbled apologies when Heather turns her glare to her.

The heady feeling power floods hot and quick, she always gets a brief buzz whenever Duke retreats and obeys. “He’s a disease wrapped in a trench coat.” Heather’s judgement doubles as a threat.

Veronica’s eyes flash. “I have plans with my parents.” 

“Well, I don’t fucking care about your parents. Do I? The only reason you shouldn’t be at the party on Friday is if they got hit by a car and I need a blood transfusion after running your parents over.”

“I’ll be there.” Veronica caves, defiance still lingering in her eyes. Heather will need to squash that more.

Duke’s close by her side as they walk down the hallway, nodding along to Heather’s words. “When did I have to start threatening charity cases to go to parties?”

“She should be begging you to go.” Duke adds.

“She should be. She’s not the only one.” Heather cuts Duke a look from the side of her eye and Duke looks back. 

Parties make or break reputations. It’s all about who’s invited and who’s not, who’s hooking up, and who made an ass out of themselves.

The Heathers are invited to every party. Not inviting them is social suicide, Heather sees to it. 

Kurt’s hand is resting too high on her thigh, his slurred words are still clear enough for the people around them to hear. “It’s my birthday.” She knows what he wants immediately.

Heather has always understood the price of admission. Society functions in a certain way and unlike the trench coat loser, she has no grand allusions of change. She can’t change the system so she’s hardly going to waste her breath trying. That’s why people like her flourish while people like JD and Dumptruck get ground beneath her heels. She accepts the way things are and she makes them hers, she owns what tries to own her. 

It’s one of the reasons she hates weak and ugly women. Her body is a lot of her power, the way she wields it and uses it. It’s how she gets boys to fall over their feet chasing her and the girls wanting to be her. Or in Duke’s case, both. Dumptruck will never be anyone because no one wants to be her. 

If people wouldn’t kill to be you, are you really living?

She’s doing them a favor when she points out their flaws. A lesser person wouldn’t tell them why they’re so pathetic, why they’re the victims. She does. If they don’t fix themselves, that’s on them. If they cry, whine, and dig their heels in then they deserve to remain a nobody. If they think their imperfections and flaws should be accepted because their parents lied to them and told them they were enough as is, she won’t give them mercy. 

It would stunt them.

The world will lie to them but she won’t.

The lines between whore, prude, and popular are very thin and take expert maneuvering. She has experience mapping out every encounter. So, she weighs the pros and cons. She considers what people will say after.

It’s Kurt’s birthday, she’s been with him most of the night, they’ve fucked before, so if she says no then she falls along the prude scale rather than the whore scale. There will be mutterings about how she didn’t go with Kurt so the footballers and the Heathers must be on the outs and then their reputation would suffer. With that in mind, she stands with as suggestive a grin she can manage. 

“Anything I want?” He annoyingly asks. She hates when they talk.

Heather’s eyes narrow and some onlookers shift nervously, recognizing her ire when it arises. “Within reason. It may be your birthday but I’m Heather Chandler.” 

Kurt nods quickly, catching onto her tone. She won’t ever let any of them forget who she is and what incurring her wrath brings. “What if I want more than one Heather?” He gives her a smirk she’s sure he thinks is sexy but is really off putting.

That would change the rumors after. Now he’s tipped the scale to whore. It shakes up the power balance at school, it’ll show the losers that the Heathers are at the jocks beck and call. They aren’t. It’s a mutually beneficial situation and now he’s requesting something she can’t, she won’t, give him.

It wouldn’t be as terrible as usual if she brought a Heather, of that she’s sure. She knows she’d drag Duke with her. It would be perfect. It would give her material for months, maybe even years. She could use Duke’s attractions to her and her perpetual body issues against her. She could use the reminder that Heather’s seen Duke naked constantly, she could highlight everything wrong with Duke’s body. She could hint, threaten, that Duke seemed just a little too interested in Heather during their time together. 

She could find out what makes Duke sigh and moan, how her body would arch and twist, how fingers she’s watched play with the pages of books for years now would clench at the sheets, how the sheen of sweat would taste on her-

Regardless, Kurt will never be part of a threesome with them. 

Heather’s lips twist into a cruel smile and there’s nervous shuffling. Everyone knows her answer before she even has to speak, even Veronica’s worried frown relaxes. 

If Duke were there, at least she’d have something to enjoy. She’d be so focused on finding every weak point to destroy Duke that the time would pass quickly. She could have looked at Duke and they would have had a whole conversation, an understanding that requires no words. Instead, she has Kurt who leaves her hollow as ever. 

He leaves finger sized bruises in her hips, likely his response to her publicly humiliating him. 

She doesn’t realize she spent the whole time thinking about Duke until after. Of course it was only Duke’s destruction that crossed Heather’s mind but it is still jarring to realize. 

It makes her think, it makes her consider.

She’s handling a lot of different situations, scheming as it were, and one of them makes itself apparent a few days later. 

Duke’s ripping into Katie’s ugly sweater next to Heather. It’s a white noise of derision while Heather’s critical eyes take in McNamara and Veronica.

Is everyone at Westerberg a homosexual? Honestly, it’s getting ridiculous. She knows Kurt and Ram are fucking, Duke can hardly contain herself, now McNamara and Veronica?

She’s going to start drinking from bottled water only.

McNamara’s hand brushes against Veronica’s when she reaches over, it’s meant to look like an accident but Heather wasn’t born yesterday. They’re close, closer than most sit. Thigh to thigh, arms and elbow keep knocking into each other. They’re both smiling, they try to smother it and make it less obvious but something like this can’t be hidden. McNamara looks pleased and Veronica looks besotten. 

Pieces fall into place.

This is why McNamara was so ready to destroy JD. 

JD.

Later, Heather won’t be sure if this was the first time killing him crossed her mind or if it was the very first time she saw him.

The result ends the same, nonetheless.

Duke is sitting stiffly in the chair in Heather’s room. She doesn’t want to slouch, hyperconscious of her body in Heather’s presence. Does she relax when she’s alone, Heather wonders. Does she ever not hate herself? Heather doubts it. 

Heather thinks about it and thinks about it. She’s done nothing but think about it since that night at Kurt’s.

Duke looking up at her, trembling with Heather’s hands on her, and knowing beyond a doubt who’s the shark. 

Heather stands from the bed, sauntering over to where Duke is sitting. Duke doesn’t move or stand, she lets Heather approach without a fight. She leans against her desk, leaning enough to where her skirt climbs her legs slightly. Duke’s eyes, just as expected, trail down before darting back up. Heather suppresses the smug grin, the thrill of victory already buzzing along her skin. “Did you know that Heather and Veronica are fucking?” 

Duke’s eyes widen slightly, almost flinching. “They wouldn’t.” It’s not argumentative, it’s disbelief. It hadn’t even crossed Duke’s mind. Duke is usually the first to notice these things. 

“Didn’t you notice them at lunch today?”

“I couldn’t notice anything when Katie was busy assaulting my eyes.” Duke drawls, almost playful. “Heather wouldn’t.” Duke says again, sounding certain. She doesn’t say Veronica wouldn’t, Heather notices.

“Why do you think that?” Heather takes the opportunity to slide closer and Duke’s shoulders straighten even more somehow.

“It’s obvious Veronica is yours first.” Duke replies easily, as if Heather had staked a claim. She supposes that’s how it looks. With her obvious preferential treatment, how else would Duke see it? She’s reasonably sure McNamara understands. If Heather had any interest inVeronica she knows McNamara wouldn’t even look at Veronica. As it is, she doesn’t. Not in any platonic or lustful ways. It has never escaped Heather’s notice that McNamara is always careful about how she approaches Duke, always careful not to offend Heather. 

Duke doesn’t understand, it seems.

She’s blinded by her distaste and jealousy when it comes to Veronica. She can’t see how Heather obviously uses her to hurt Duke. She can’t see that she’s the only one Heather gives enough a shit about to so thoroughly destroy. 

Duke thinks her hate of JD is jealousy and that sort of pisses Heather off. 

“I’m hardly a dyke, Heather. They can play house with each other for all I care but we can’t let it get out that they’re fucking. It would be terrible for our reputation. If they aren’t subtle about it, I’ll be forced to end them.”

As Heather’s fingers brush Duke’s knees, she hopes Duke understands the threat. The promise. Does Duke get it yet? How long can Heather play with Duke, how much can Heather push her before she realizes what’s going on? “Of course, Heather.” 

Heather’s leg fall between Duke’s, just close enough to press against her inner thigh. Duke’s breathing hitches for a moment before she locks eyes with Heather. The hate-lust is more present than ever. Heather tries not to shiver. Duke would kill to be her. Duke would kill her, if circumstances were different. Isn’t that the most devoted, the most touching way someone can express their love? Duke wants her, she craves her.

It’s everything Heather has built her life around.

Duke is the embodiment of Heather’s legacy. 

Duke doesn’t look hesitant or uncertain as they stare at each other. It seems Heather won’t get the chance to push and taunt, Duke caught on quick. Of course she did, Duke is Heather’s second. 

Heather leans down, bodies close but not touching. “Well, Heather?” Heather arches an eyebrow, a challenge and a question. Heather won’t be the first to really start this. She set it in motion but she’d never show that she wants it because it would be false. She doesn’t want this, necessarily. She just wants another way to possess Duke, another piece to take and mold. 

Heather can see Duke’s mind churning, debating the pros and cons. She’s weighing how Heather will use this versus what Duke obviously wants. Heather already said she wants subtlety so hopefully Duke has enough of a brain left to know bringing it public isn’t Heather’s aim. She doesn’t want to ruin the reputation she worked so hard for, she just wants this between them. 

She wants something that tears Duke apart that only she knows, only she is capable of. Something between them that no one else has a say in.

Duke’s eyes dart down to Heather’s lips and she doesn’t even try to hold back the smug smile. Heather knew what Duke would decide before she even approached her. Duke tilts her head and closes the distance.

Duke tastes like lipstick and hate, her lips are softer than the boys but she presses just as hard. Heather doesn’t hate it. Duke’s hand latches onto Heather’s jacket, pulling her closer. Heather allows the move and swipes her tongue along Duke’s lower lip. Duke, obedient as ever, opens her mouth. She does bite at Heather’s lip when she pulls back, a reminder that Duke kids herself a snake. 

This is why she decided to sleep with Duke.

Duke would betray her in a moment, Heather is sure. Duke would use anything to usurp Heather from the top. She’d cut away any affections for Heather like it’s an infection, excising the damaged tissue from her heart. She is glass, weak but dangerous. A fragile ego that can be deadly if Heather ever underestimates her.

Of course she has to have her with that in mind. Heather gets what she wants, it’s the gospel of Westerberg. Dragging her finger across Duke’s skin is like running her finger over a shard of glass. It could end up bloody but it is worth it for the rush.

She knows Veronica and McNamara are different. She sees the soft looks they toss each other, the way McNamara eases Veronica’s sharp edges. Heather has no interest in dulling Duke, she wants her sharp but under her thumb. 

Duke looks up at Heather with her lips stained and clothes wrinkled. Heather scowls. “Don’t tell me you’re just going to mouth breathe.” 

“I’ll leave that to Veronica.” Duke retorts, lifting herself back towards Heather’s lips. Heather leans enough away that Duke falls short and her face twitches with fear. Whoever said it is better to be loved than feared was likely a weak pathetic bitch who never experienced the thrill of peons’ fear. There’s nothing like it. Not adoration, not drugs, not sex. Duke’s fear at Heather’s next move, if this was all a prank, turns her on far more than Duke herself ever could. Duke’s eyes watch as Heather smiles and her eyes narrow. “Are you afraid, Heather?” 

It’s a blatant challenge that sets Heather’s teeth on edge. How dare Duke of all people accuse her of being afraid? Duke who can’t even sit without second guessing herself. Duke who can’t say anything without her eyes dancing nervously to Heather for approval. 

Heather pulls Duke from the chair and more or less throws her on the bed. She kisses Duke until that thread of resistance, of confidence, is a puddle in Heather’s hand. Heather cannot allow Duke to entertain the thought that she’s winning this at all, that Heather is even remotely afraid. She kisses Duke and drags her teeth along her sensitive throat until she’s moaning and wanting. 

Heather takes Duke’s jacket off and her shoulders stiffen for a moment but Heather’s quick to suck at the junction of her jaw. Duke relaxes again until Heather’s hand brushes her stomach. Duke completely freezes and Heather scoffs derisively. Duke glares at her with pure hate. Duke’s concentration falters when Heather’s hands make their way up Duke’s body. She doesn’t make a comment, then. She doesn’t spit out insults about Duke’s body when that’s what Duke is expecting. It doesn’t benefit her to be predictable. 

Instead, she lavishes Duke until there’s a sheen of sweat building on her throat and her breathing is heavier than ever. 

Heather leans back and pulls Duke with her, taking off her shirt. Duke doesn’t cover up but she looks ready to push Heather off. Heather just laughs and presses a kiss to the side of Duke’s mouth before moving down. She belatedly realizes that could be misconstrued as an affectionate gesture. She’s not even really sure why she did it.

Duke’s hands push Heather’s blazer away, much more careful with depositing it then Heather was. Duke’s hands land on her legs, just below her skirt, before sliding up. Heather swats Duke’s wandering hands away and sends her a glare that makes the freshman run. Duke’s eyes widen and her hands retreat from her thighs but don’t stop their exploration. They brush Heather’s waist and arms, anywhere she deems safe. 

Heather won’t be fucked by this encounter. She means that in the theoretical and the physical sense. She isn’t going to give Duke any of the power here. She won’t leave any marks that Duke can claim were from her even as her possessiveness demands that she does. She won’t let Duke feel like this is something she can share or use as leverage against her.

This is Heather’s game just like everything else. 

Duke won’t be able to use this to tear Heather down. She won’t know what it feels like to look down on Heather and see her fall apart. This isn’t about attraction for Heather after all. 

Duke’s hips twitch up against Heather and she has to bite her lip.

It’s just about power.

She does end up seeing how Duke looks as she falls apart. She gets all the ammunition she could ever want. She still pushes Duke back over the edge again and again. She didn’t really have to, she already proved her point, but she’s always prided herself on pushing Duke. It’s hardly different with this.

She goes home smelling like Duke’s perfume and sex. 

She rides a high for the next two weeks. 

Duke watches her nervously but not obviously, Duke is good at keeping her fears from the public. She eviscerates three idiots who get on her warpath, rumors that Duke is in a mood start spreading. Of course they say the usual shit, that she’s PMSing. 

She finds Duke alone, fingers tapping as she stares outside a window. Heather approaches quietly, leaning in too close to her ear. “Here I thought I’d taken care of your…stress.” Duke stiffens when she feels Heather’s lips against her skin. 

Duke turns around, eyes searching. “Not very well.” 

Heather laughs. “You can try and act suave but you’ve been checking me out for far too long for it to work. Just how many fantasies do you have up here?” Heather prods Duke’s head before settling her hand on Duke’s shoulder, thumb brushing above the collar. Duke swallows as Heather’s words set in. Heather has known for a long time that Duke is attracted to her, it’s more than likely Duke didn’t know this. Heather would stake her life on it. 

“How long have you been looking back?” Duke replies firmly, going on the attack.

“Honey, it was never about looking back.” Heather says patronizingly. 

Duke’s lips quirk up, the last expression Heather expected. It’s the smirk Duke gets before she ruins someone’s life. “Are you sure about that, Heather?” Duke says Heather’s name like Heather says her, like it’s a mockery. Heather isn’t sure what Duke is getting at but she’s about ready to cut her down. “You approached me. How long did _you_ think about it? What fantasies do you have?” Duke continues with a vicious glee.

This is why Duke’s her favorite.

She adores the obedient weak Duke just as much as she adores this Duke. She’s nails wrapped in barb wire, a weapon made to hurt. She hates that Duke has the audacity to question Heather, that she’s stupid enough to misconstrue Heather’s intentions and desires, but she loves that she’s willing to challenge her. She’s the only one left with a scrap of backbone, as buried as it is. 

“Don’t be a fucking idiot, you’re supposed to be better than that.” Duke smiles at Heather’s words and she feels off balance for the first time in a long time, she isn’t sure what she has to do to reclaim the throne. Duke’s hand slides up her arm and takes her wrist, moving their hands down below Duke’s skirt. 

“If I tell you my fantasies will you tell me yours?” Duke asks with faux kindness. Duke is angling for mutually assured destruction. As of now, despite Duke’s posturing Heather has more dirt on Duke. If Duke can pull out secrets or desires, she can level the playing field. 

Heather isn’t about to give Duke anything. 

McNamara notices a change in Heather and Duke’s relationship almost immediately. She never brings it up, her eyes just watch them closely. Veronica is less subtle. She asks pointed questions and her prying eyes dig and dig. McNamara has the sense to distract her girlfriend before Heather has to have her killed. 

Veronica doesn’t just eye Heather and Duke.

She’s constantly watching JD, trading barbs and smiles with him.

Fucking JD.

Heather thinks about it a lot. She’ll see his smarmy smirk and his air of superiority, as if he’s done anything to earn it, and she imagines how his head would cave in. Would it have much resistance or would the air where his brain should be make it easy?

She spends more time thinking about killing JD then she wants to. She doesn’t want a freak occupying so many of her thoughts. It’s unseemly. She can’t help it when Veronica meets his gaze, when her lips twitch into an expression that makes Heather feel nauseous. McNamara barely restrains her hate. Their so called good girl looks ready to rip JD limb from limb.

McNamara’s visible upset only stokes Heather’s flames. She can’t let their distress be obvious, she can’t let people think the Heather’s are weak. 

She imagines launching a ball at him with her mallet. She’s gotten good at her aim. She thinks she could hit him but would it be enough force? Would his bone give way? No, it’s not strong enough. She wouldn’t leave anything to chance.

She could bludgeon him to death with her mallet? There’s something satisfying about that thought. It seems right. The red of his blood running with her colors. It’s poetic, almost. He seems like the kind of douche to appreciate it. 

As if drawn in by the loud contemplations of murder, he stalks in front of her with a smirk. She looks at him with disgust. She’s alone which is rare and she’s sure that he intended to catch her so. 

“Run away little boy, you don’t want to do whatever it is you're thinking of.” She gives him a chance to leave only because there’s a dangerous amount of violence in her. 

“Oh come now, can’t we be friends?” JD doesn’t even believe the words he’s saying, he’s stalling.

“Like a tick and a lighter, maybe.” 

“I wouldn’t say you’re a bug.” She steps closer to him and he doesn’t flinch. “I see you’re busy. We can talk when you aren’t with Heather Duke.” 

Heather doesn’t give him the satisfaction of reacting. “I’m always busy with all of the Heathers, just ask Veronica.” 

His eyes narrow dangerously. “Don’t talk about her.”

“My my, so possessive. I talk about anyone how I want, this is my school. These are my halls that you’re polluting. They’re mine, not yours. Including Veronica. I understand that a motherless orphan like you can’t comprehend female friendships. Don’t try and fuck with me again.”

She starts to walk away and he grabs her arm. “I’m not the one fucking you though, am I?”

Heather smiles with all her teeth. “No one fucks me.”

His lips twist. “Half this school does, actually.” 

She doesn’t hit him but she does think about how satisfying it’s going to feel to break his skull open. 

The way he’s looking at her, he’s probably thinking something similar.

She goes from thinking about his death to planning it. 

She walks into McNamara’s room with Duke following, fully planning on recruiting her. Veronica yelps and throws the covers over herself, McNamara freezes. She watches Heather and Duke with unblinking eyes.

“You weren’t joking.” Duke rubs the bridge of her nose, looking away. 

“I wish I were.” Heather turns Duke around and pushes her out the door. “Put your fucking clothes on.” 

She hears McNamara comforting Veronica before they close the door. “Don’t worry, she’s not going to tell anyone.” Heather almost calls everyone she knows on principle. She isn’t keeping their secret out of loyalty or approval. She’s just doing it for her own benefit. If McNamara really thinks she’s so soft, she shouldn’t include her in any felonies.

It’ll just have to be Duke and her. 

Duke’s laying against her as Heather reads through a magazine, Duke’s reading that worn copy of Moby Dick for whatever reason. She doesn’t even like whales or dicks so Heather isn’t sure what the draw is. She’s running a hand up and down Duke’s back, not out of familiarity but to relax Duke. 

She could tell Duke they need to kill JD because he knows about them but Duke would likely use this to her benefit. Heather means very little to Duke in the long run. She could tell her that he’s obsessed with Veronica, who oddly likes him back, and it might hurt McNamara. Except, Duke would sell out McNamara for any upwards social movement and wouldn’t risk anything for her.

Duke can’t be counted on to actually give a shit about any of them but she can always be counted on to protect their station at the top.

“JD is a threat to us all. If he keeps associating with Veronica or coming near us our reputation will be a wreck.” She eventually murmurs. 

Duke hums, agreeing easily. “He doesn’t take our usual shows of force like the others.”

Heather sighs. “Much less pissing himself and running away than I’d prefer.”

Heather feels her laughter but Duke keeps it quiet. Duke eventually asks, setting her book down. She plants her chin on Heather’s chest and looks up at her with a curious expression. “What’s your plan, Heather?” 

“I think we’ll need a more permanent solution.” 

Duke’s brow furrows. “We could get him expelled.”

“Think bigger, Heather. He’s obsessed with Veronica and he’s nuts. Expelling won’t stop him.”

Duke works it over in her head, looking for what Heather is saying. Her eyes widen when it clicks. “You can’t mean…” She veers off, unable to finish. She looks away from Heather and bites her lip.

Heather rolls them over and props herself up on her hands, looking down at Duke. “Do you have a problem with it?” 

“It’s a serious solution.” Duke hisses.

“We could get away with it.”

“How could you possibly know that!” 

“We’re pretty, popular, girls. We’re the last people they’d suspect.”

“I don’t know, Heather.” Duke looks conflicted.

Heather reaches out and turns Duke’s face back to hers. “Do you really want to go back to the bottom? Do you want people like Dumptruck walking over us?” 

“No.” Duke spits out.

They’re silent for a long moment, both thinking. “Well?” Heather pushes Duke, her tone annoyed.

Duke swallows and meets her eyes. She looks pale and it’s a lucky thing that she has so much experience throwing up because she doesn’t look far from it. She knows this is far more than telling Duke to humiliate the boy who sneezed near her or ruining Amanda’s entire reputation for laughing when McNamara looked terrible one day. This is murder, after all. “Yes, Heather.” Still, she came around to it quickly. 

She thought she’d have to spend hours talking Duke into it. 

It does something to Heather, knowing what lurks in Duke’s heart. The hate, the lust, the violence. Heather didn’t plan to shift down until she was mouthing at Duke’s thighs. She didn’t mean to let Duke press herself on top of Heather, hands blazing across skin Heather has never allowed her. 

It just burns her up, knowing that Duke would kill.

Would she kill for Chandler? Would she kill Chandler? 

Yes.

She doesn’t tell Duke that this will bond them in some ways, forever. They are both at fault, they are both in this. She can’t escape her if Heather has a murder on Duke. Heather knows it will be vice versa. They can’t betray each other if they do it together. It isn’t only assured loyalty from Duke but it keeps Heather from doing something she would rather not.

She likes having Duke around.

Red and green, a hideous festive color that Heather finds herself becoming addicted to. She isn’t sure when she got so entangled in Duke that she even imagines how twisted together their colors are. She’s always been an obsessive person, knows this.

A week later, the school is reeling. A tragedy has struck after all.

Depressed JD, sad JD, took a nosedive off his roof. 

Duke looked annoyed when Heather bashed his head in. She bitched and complained about how hard it would be to cover up the murder but Heather shrugged. She’d find a way, she always does. 

She thought it might be easier if she had Veronica. Veronica could just write a suicide letter. Except, JD already had several suicide letters and other murder letters. All terrifying if Heather was capable of feeling fear. Duke did swallow nervously at some of his plans for the school and the Heathers.

When she wipes blood off of Duke’s cheek with her thumb, she knows they’ll never lose each other.

Veronica looks distressed when the news breaks and McNamara is quick to comfort her. It’s what a good friend would do. If she has suspicions, she never airs them. 

They can say what they want about McNamara but she’s a Heather through and through.

Heather would never let her Heathers be anything but perfect.


End file.
